


forgive my ugly heart

by willowhispery



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: +3ghosts killed me dead and here i am, A3! Part/ACT 3 Spoilers, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowhispery/pseuds/willowhispery
Summary: Madoka, Misumi, and the messy work of putting a family back together.
Relationships: Ikaruga Madoka & Ikaruga Misumi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	forgive my ugly heart

It’s almost impossible for Madoka to think about triangles without thinking about his older brother.

The difference is, as he watches Misumi lay out a picnic blanket under a tree, that these days the thought only gives him a slight pang of longing, rather than the aching want — need? — of days gone by. The long-familiar thought of, _I want to get along with him,_ coupled with the chime of a notification on LIME, the way that he has the path to Mankai Company memorized by now. If someone had told him one year ago that he would find himself where he is right now, in a park sharing a picnic with the older brother that he’d long thought estranged from him, he wouldn’t have believed them. Wouldn’t have dared to hope for more than the wish that Misumi, wherever he was, was safe and happy.

In the dappled sunlight filtering in through the leaves, Misumi’s ever-present smile looks especially bright, and Madoka marvels at the fact that these days, he can see his brother even if it’s not from the audience, close enough to see but not touch.

He tamps down the urge to reach out towards Misumi by busying himself with the picnic basket they’d brought along instead, carefully kneeling down on the blanket to unpack the triangular-shaped foods. He knows that if he wanted to — if he asked — Misumi would give him as many hugs as he’d ever desire, carefree and loving in that way Madoka had only ever seen Misumi act towards their grandfather. Knowing Misumi, he probably wouldn’t even think twice about it, except to be happy that Madoka was asking in the first place, but...

But even if they’re closer now than they’ve ever been, that sort of thing is still too much to ask for, after all, and he swallows down the selfish request like an ugly medicine, the words resting like lead in his stomach. 

“Hm?” Misumi hums, a quiet question. 

Madoka coughs lightly and shakes his head, tilting his face away from Misumi’s questioning gaze. They’ve been on this picnic for scarcely twenty minutes now and already he’s worrying in his head too much about things that shouldn’t matter. He should be happy with this much, really. It’s exceedingly greedy of him to want, to crave more, when just this much is already more than he could have ever imagined having in his lifetime.

 _This is enough,_ he reminds himself, hands twisting together on top of his lap, picnic basket long-forgotten. This is enough. It has to be.

It’s perhaps by sheer miracle that he even hears his brother calling his name, that familiar smile twisting into a frown. “Madoka?” he asks, hands paused mid passing out the plates. Above them, the cicadas chirp incessantly. “Is something wrong?”

He owes it to his brother, he thinks, to smile at him now when he wasn’t able to for so long, but it’s as though his body has forgotten how. “Sorry, Nii-san,” he says. That part, at least, is pure honesty, bittersweet on his tongue. He wonders, how many apologies does he owe Misumi by now? “I was…” 

He falters, trailing off and casting his gaze to the side. On this bright summer morning, the park is full of young couples and families enjoying the summer heat, and Madoka watches as two children run merrily along the length of the stream, their carefree, shrieking laughter audible to him even at this distance. 

His hands twist tighter on his lap. Perhaps, in another lifetime, he and Misumi could have been like that, childish and openly loving, or perhaps like Shifuto and his brother, but in this one, such a thing is…

There’s a beat of silence that lasts for far too long, but when Madoka can finally bring himself to tear his gaze away from the children, Misumi is busy unboxing the onigiri and the sandwiches, that smile back on his face as he hums. He picks a plate off the stack, piling it high with food, before pressing it into Madoka’s hands. “Here,” he says, his grin warm and comforting. Madoka feels the tension in his shoulder relax in increments as his brother’s obvious care and concern. “For Madoka.”

Madoka takes the plate quietly, bowing his head in thanks. It’s a bit too much food for just him, but of course Misumi wouldn’t be able to know that —

He pauses, chopsticks still poised in the air. Even now, even after all this time, these little things — things that brothers should _know_ about each other — still catch him by surprise. In a way, it’s the unremarkably mundane things that make it hurt all the more. That casual way of existing, of interacting, that other people can have with their families is something his own will never have, for all that he and Misumi spend time together these days, as if trying to make up for the years of childhood they lost. This present he could have never imagined, of having his brother here, of being able to get along with him, will never be able to erase their past. There will always be the painful memories of the past underlying every interaction of theirs, the cautious, nervous way they’ve had to learn how to belong together, like mismatched pieces of a puzzle trying to force a fit. 

He doesn’t notice that he’s dropped his chopsticks until Misumi is taking his plate away from his trembling hands, setting it aside on the picnic blanket. And then Madoka is falling forwards into a warm chest, arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders and a hand settling heavy on his head, the way their grandfather used to comfort them when they were really, truly upset — 

How curious. For all that Misumi is his brother, Madoka doesn’t think that he’s ever really gotten to play this sort of role in their patchwork relationship — the doting older brother, protective and kind, warm and familiar…

He buries his head in Misumi’s shoulder, hands coming up almost unbidden to knot in the fabric at the back of Misumi’s shirt, wishing even as the tears slip out that he was _better_ at all of this, somehow. That he could smile, that it could be as easy as _wanting_ it badly enough, that he could be content even with the memories that will always exist between them.

“There, there,” Misumi’s voice rumbles against his chest, familiar and grounding. His hand strokes over Madoka’s hair lightly. “It’s okay, Madoka. It’s okay.”

 _It’s not,_ he wants to say. They should have been able to grow up together. They should have been able to know each other. Misumi should have been able to rely on his family. Misumi should have been able to _be_ with his family. Shouldn’t he have been able to have at least that much? Didn’t he deserve it? They should have… He should have...

Even now, so many years after their grandfather died, it feels like he’s grieving. 

(It’s greedy of him, to be so concerned with his own selfish wants, so wrapped up in his own pain, when his brother is the one who ought to be crying.)

He doesn’t know how long he cries for, only that he feels absolutely drained by the end of it, resting his weight almost entirely on Misumi. He’s not a child anymore — he’s certainly not small enough that his weight isn’t a burden — but Misumi doesn’t say anything, only hums out a vaguely familiar tune as he rubs comforting circles into Madoka’s back. Bit by bit, Madoka relaxes the vice grip he has on Misumi’s shirt, sits up a bit while still leaning against his brother’s chest. Like this, Madoka half-leaning against Misumi, they must look ridiculous, but Madoka at least knows his brother well enough by now to know that sort of thing doesn’t matter to him.

"Sorry," Madoka hiccups, once he’s sure that he can talk without bursting back into tears. "I don't — I don't know why — "

Except he _does_ know why — he just wishes there was a way to verbalize all of the emotions swirling around in his chest, give a name to all the thoughts in his head. But he's never really been good with his words outside of writing, he thinks with a sigh.   
  
"It's ok~!" Misumi says, with just as much cheer as usual. Madoka can’t see his face like this, but it’s easy to imagine that easygoing smile of his, the same as always. Just the thought brings a smile to Madoka's lips, however shaky. "It's good to rely on your big brother, you know! I’m glad that you can lean on me when you need to!"

Madoka huffs out a quiet laugh. “I know…” 

Still… “I’m sorry for ruining the picnic,” he says, quieter. With some reluctance, he sits up, hands pressed into his lap again, and refuses to meet Misumi’s gaze. “I know that we planned this for a long time.”

“It’s ok,” Misumi repeats. A hand reaches out, tilting Madoka’s chin up, and he looks up to see Misumi’s comforting grin. “Madoka is more important than a picnic.”

Madoka bites at his lower lip, gaze flickering towards the plates still littering the blanket. “Still, Nii-san’s precious time — ”

“As long as I can spend time with Madoka, I’m happy,” Misumi says. “We still have plenty of time to play together, after all~!”

“That’s — true…” Madoka knots his fingers together, head dipping down to look at his hands on his lap. Bad at words or not, a part of him has to know, needs to ask if — “Nii-san, I… Do you regret everything?”

_Do you regret this? Do you regret the way things are? Do you also wish things could have been different?_

Misumi hums thoughtfully. “I do wish I could have played with Madoka more before,” he starts. “But… I’m really happy to be together with you now.”

“Even if — ” Madoka hesitates. Even if what, exactly? He tries, “Even if our past is like that?”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Misumi says, quietly, “Back when Summer Troupe had our seventh play, and I couldn’t speak to Madoka… I had a talk with Kazu, then. He said that I should cherish the feelings I have now.”

Madoka lifts his head just in time to see Misumi beam, and without thinking, he finds himself smiling back, hesitant and shy. “That’s why, no matter what, I want to cherish the feeling of being Madoka’s big brother. 

“That past, where we couldn’t be together… And this present, where we can talk like this... And the future, too… It’s all part of our story,” Misumi says. “But no matter what happens now, we’ll always be brothers.”

“A part of our story, huh...?” It’s true that they can’t exactly change the past, however painful it might be. And this present, where he can talk to his older brother like this…

“I really cherish this present too,” Madoka says. “I really like being ‘Misumi Ikaruga’s younger brother.’”

Misumi’s smile grows wider. “And I like being ‘Madoka Ikaruga’s older brother.’ I won’t regret in the future this time we have together.” 

Regret in the future, huh?

Their past may be like that, and they may have deserved better, more, but — but no matter what, he wants to cherish this time he has with Misumi right now. He doesn’t want to live a life where he’ll regret not speaking up when he should have, or not acting when he should have, or not spending time with his brother when he should have. 

That kind of easy sibling relationship, with a past that one can smile about — they’ll never have that. But if he lets himself get too caught up with that, then he won’t move now when he should be, and he’ll miss out on moments like this one with his precious older brother. 

“I don’t want to regret it in the future, either,” Madoka says thoughtfully. “That’s why, from now on, please continue to be my older brother.”

Through thick and through thin, through sun and through shine — no matter what, this person here has always cared about him, even when they were separated. He can’t change the past that hurt them both, but… maybe, from now on, he can take a step towards the future side-by-side with Misumi. However painful, however sad, however regretful the past — no matter what, their present can be brighter.

Misumi giggles, reaching a hand out towards Madoka. “It’s a pinky promise, okay?”

“It’s a promise.” Madoka links their fingers together. This kind of easygoing promise, too, is a special present he wants to cherish. 

Above them, the cicadas continue to chirp.

**Author's Note:**

> estranged/strained familial relationships are a repeated kick to the nuts for me, chief
> 
> (also, i hilariously made my own younger sibling cry with this)
> 
> my twitter is [here](https://twitter.com/kurokeitos) if you wanna come yell at me about the ikaruga sibs or just a3 in general!


End file.
